The Lost Boys
by DeannaWinchester88
Summary: Sam Campbell has never been anything but lost. Dean Winchester has never really had a place in the world. When he meets Sam, the shaggy haired kid with a black eye and a split lip, Dean instantly becomes protective of him.
1. Chapter 1

Walking through the front gates, all eyes turned to Sam. Dressed in a white t-shirt and tatty jeans with a dirty burgundy jacket, Sam kept his head lowered as he hid behind his long, floppy brown hair which hung down over his eyes. The cut on his lip and the black and purple bruises under his eye were just two of many things Sam was trying to hide that day. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone noticed, but then again, no one really cared. To them, he was just the mysterious freak who no one talks to. The one everyone knows gets smacked around by his Dad. Cradling his arm around his middle, Sam tried to fight through the pain as he kept walking.

Entering the main school building was always hard for him. With large groups of students flocking around in the corridors beside their lockers just waiting to shout comments or take a swing themselves. Because Sam wasn't gonna' swing back. He would just take it, because that's what he was used to. A group of girls began giggling as he walked past. The social destroyers. The ones that have a rumour circulating in around three minutes max if you did or said anything they didn't like. Isn't school amazing?

Sam ignored them all and entered the classroom. Again, everyone stared as Sam walked down the aisle to sit at the back desk. This had very much become his place in the classroom as no one occupied the seat beside him and everyone else was at least three desks in front. He didn't know why the space was necessary, but then again, he didn't really care.

Sitting down, Sam noticed a group of guys at the front looking in the direction of his wrist. His sleeve had moved up slightly revealing dark red bruises left from his father's iron grip. Sam's cheeks reddened slightly in embarrassment before he quickly pulled the fabric down to hide the marks.

Mrs Norton walked in followed by what appeared to be a new kid. Dressed in a long, brown leather jacket with jeans, a black t-shirt with a light blue plaid shirt over it, and dark brown boots, the guy was tall with quiffed-ish brown hair and green eyes. His cheeks were lightly freckled and he didn't seem to lack confidence.

"Class, this is Dean Winchester." Mrs Norton introduced before looking up at him. "Is there anything you would like to tell the class about yourself, Dean?"

"Not really, sugar." He quipped with a cheeky smirk.

Mrs Norton rolled her eyes, clearing having dealt with many Deans throughout her teaching career. "Sit down."

Dean smirked.

As Sam watched him walk down the aisle of the classroom, he prayed that he wasn't going to sit near him. But he did. That was of course after furrowing an eyebrow at the distance between Sam and the rest of the kids in the class.

Dean looked at the kid he was sitting next to. Long, messy brown hair covering green eyes.

Leaning back in his chair, Sam winced as even the slightest movement aggravated his throbbing ribs. Holding back a whimper, Sam tried to hide his discomfort.

"Sam?" Spoke up Mrs Norton.

Sam looked up and over at her. She was stood at the front of the classroom.

"Can I assign you to show Dean around the school?"

_Crap._

He nodded, hiding his reluctance.

"Good." She nodded with a smile.

When the bell eventually rang to signal the end of homeroom, Sam stood up from his chair gingerly before gently putting the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

Dean, who had been watching as the kid got up, couldn't ignore the alarm bells that were ringing in his head at the sight of him. He had been hunting for as long as he could remember, and he knew the signs of someone who was hurt. The kid however was more than that. He was someone who was hurt and pretending to not be. There were clues littered across him. The way his left arm never moved more than three or four centimetres away from his chest, the way the kid looked as if he'd gone a few days without a good meal, and the way his lip was split. A split like that required force, and Dean guessed that it came from a fist rather than a fall. Who was this kid, and why was he the only one who seemed to be giving a shit about him?

The other kids had already cleared off out of the room leaving only him and Sam. Sam had walked off ahead and was now walking through the door out into the corridor. Dean managed to catch up to him in a couple of seconds due to the kid's slow pace.

"Hey."

Sam glanced to him and offered a brief smile. "We've got PSHE."

Dean rolled his eyes with a sulk gaining a smirk from Sam as he did. "You don't like it either, huh?" He asked.

Sam shook his head.

"I don't think anyone does." Dean replied as they walked into the classroom Sam had led them inside. Sam and him took their seats at a desk at the back of the room. Dean notes that this seemed to be the kid's favourite place.

A tutor cleared his throat before standing up from his desk and walking over to a whiteboard at the front of the room. "Today we have a guest in to speak to you about something very important. Now it's quite a tough subject matter in which we're going to discuss so if any of you just want to step out during it that's completely fine. You don't need to ask either, you can just leave. Anyway..." He turned to a blonde woman who was sat in a chair at the side of the room. "This is Louise Walker."

"Thank you." She nodded before switching places with the tutor at the front. "Yeah, so I'm here today to talk about abuse and how you can report it if you ever find yourself in the position, or if you witness it. We will be talking about the procedures involved with the reporting and also looking at the signs of abuse and how you can help prevent it by noticing these vital clues."

Dean glanced at the kid to offer a witty comment but noticed instead just how pale the kid had turned.

"Hey..." He whispered softly. "You okay? You don't look so good, buddy."

Sam quickly nodded in reply. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Dean let it slide for now while the blonde chick continued her lecture. It was when she assigned them into partners that he decided that he should probably try to find out what was wrong. "Seriously, dude, are you okay?"

Sam nodded. "I'm fine, honestly." But he wasn't meeting his eyes anymore. Sam once again seemed to be hiding away behind his fringe.

The blonde chick walked over. "So, what have you got down then?" She asked before looking at their blank sheet of paper. "Nothing, so I suggest you start writing otherwise you're not going to have anything to present."

"Present?!" Sam's tone rose quickly. The result wasn't loud, but there was something hidden in there that didn't sit well with Dean.

The blonde chick nodded. "Yep, so I would put some signs down." She then walked off.

"Ughh, I hate presenting." Dean moaned.

Sam didn't say anything.

After a further five or so minutes, the blonde chick walked back to the front. "Right then, that should have been enough time." She looked around the class. "Hmm..." Her eyes quickly found Sam and Dean. "Right then, you two at the back. Can you come up here and share your views please?"

Dean was as reluctance as Sam when they walked to the front. Various students in the class sniggered as they did. Sam could see them pointing and making comments to each other as they laughed.

"Haha, faggot and the new kid." One of them shouted.

Dean glanced back at Sam who had retreated back a few steps, now behind him. He saw the red blush of embarrassment on his cheeks and the way in which he seemed to be climbing further and further back into his shell as the kid taunting continued.

"Oy, benefit fag!" One of them began. "How's your Mom?"

The tutors attempts to silence the class weren't working.

"Is she deady?" Another mocked in a babyish tone while the others laughed.

Dean's hand clenched into a hard fist as he stepped forward to punch the crap out of the kids who were making Sam feel like shit, but he was beaten to it...by Sam.

Sam snarled in anger as he stormed over to the kid who had made the last comment and grabbed him by the neck, shoving him backwards off his chair so that they both fell to the floor, Sam pinning him down. "You know nothing about me!" He screamed. The tutor was trying, but ultimately failing, to pull Sam off the other kid.

Dean rushed over and knelt down beside Sam. "Sam...Sam...look at me...look at me..." He began softly. "It's not worth it..._he's_ not worth it..."

Sam stopped and turned to look at Dean. And that's when Dean could see the tears in Sam's eyes. Looking away, Sam gave the kid one last shove before standing up and running off out of the classroom.

Dean ran off after him.

Noticing that his knuckle was bleeding, Sam shoved it into his pocket. Realising that Dean had followed him, Sam spoke up in the strongest tone he could muster. "I appreciate what you did back there, but I wouldn't suggest doing it again for multiple reasons."

"And what are they?" Dean asked in curiosity.

"Well for one, those lot aren't the kind of people you want to have as enemies, and two, you're gonna' get a nicknames if you're seen with me."

"They can go screw themselves for all I care." Dean stated. "And I could take 'em so I'm not worried in that department."

Sam turned slightly to glance at Dean before returning his gaze back to the ground. "Why do you care? You don't even know me."

"True, but I'm not the sort of person to just stand there and watch some dickturds rip a guy to shreds."

Sam scoffed and shook his head, kicking a rock across the grass in anger. "They don't know what they're talking about." Sam said under his breath.

"Then tell me." Dean replied. "Tell me what's really going on. Set the record straight." Looking at the kid, he looked so angry and yet so sad. Dean hated to continue, but he knew it was in the kid's best interest to talk about it. "They said something about your Mom."

Sam turned in an instant, a burning anger in his eyes. "She has nothing to do with anything!" He shouted before realising he'd raised his voice and ducking his head. "Sorry."

Dean shook his head. "Don't be."

Sam took a breath to calm himself down, then seemed to take a few more before he spoke up again. "She..." Sam lowered his head for a few seconds before sorta' meeting Dean's gaze again. "...it's complicated..."

Dean offered a soft smile and nodded, not wanting to push the kid any further if he didn't want to. He then sat down on the grass and took a box of cigarettes out of the pocket of his leather jacket. Sliding one out of the packet and putting it in his mouth, he then offered one to Sam. Despite initially showing reluctance, Sam took one from the box too. Dean flicked the wheel a few times before a flame appeared. Sam lit his cigarette from it before Dean did the same with his.

Flopping down onto the ground, Sam lay on his back as he took the cigarette between his index and middle finger, moving it away from his mouth. Blowing the smoke slowly out through half closed lips, he watched as the small clouds dispersed in the air.

Dean flopped down beside him, taking a drag from his cigarette before blowing out the smoke. He glanced at Sam a few times before exhaling deeply and turning his head to the side to look at the kid. "I lost my Mom."

Sam did the same so that he was looking at Dean. "I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago." Dean added.

"Doesn't make it any easier." Sam offered a reassuring smile.

Dean nodded before looking closer at Sam's black eye. "They do that?"

"Do what?"

Dean motioned to his eye.

Sam shook his head. "Self-inflicted." He then corrected it. "Not like that, I mean I'm clumsy. Fell down the stairs, ended up landing funny and smacking my head off the side table at the bottom."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

"You get those ribs looked at?"

"What?" Sam furrowed an eyebrow.

"Nothing...One of the things those kids called you..." Dean quickly changed the subject.

"What, faggot?"

"I hate that word...but yeah."

"What about it?" Sam asked.

"Are you gay or are they just being cruel? Not that they're not being cruel even if you are..." Dean added.

Sam didn't respond for a few seconds, but then nodded. There was an expression that Dean quickly realised to be worry on the kid's face.

"Don't worry, I'm fine with it." Dean explained. "Not that you need my approval anyway."

Sam's eyes widened. "Really?!"

Dean smirked. "That shocking?"

"Oh, umm, I didn't mean..." Sam panicked.

"Hey, it's okay." Dean reassured with a smile. "Honestly, I couldn't give a shit about sexual preference."

Sam smirked.

"What?"

"It's just...you just look like a quarterback type."

"Not everyone who plays sports is a douche." Dean smirked.

"Never said that, I just mean that here, you don't see many that aren't, like at all..."

"I might try out for the team just to prove your little theory wrong." Dean grinned cockily.

"You would probably get a spot as well." Sam smirked before taking another drag of the cigarette.

"You look too innocent to be doing that." Dean stated.

"What, even with a black eye?"

"Even with a black eye." He nodded.

The two lay in silence for a seconds before Sam broke it. "Hey, Dean..." He pressed his cigarette butt into the ground to extinguish it fully before tossing it away.

Dean took one last drag before doing the same. "Yeah?"

"What you were gonna' do back there...thanks for that."

"What did I do?" Dean asked.

"I saw you. You were ready to punch those kids' lights out 'cause of what they were saying. It sounds bad, but I appreciate that." Sam smiled softly. "No one's ever been prepared to do that for me before."

Dean smiled too. "I would have done it for anyone."

"I know." Sam nodded.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You seem like the heroic type."

"I'm not." Dean shook his head.

"You also seem like the type to sell yourself short." Sam added.

Dean went to reply, but was cut short by the sound of the bell ringing to signal the start of lunch. "We could go out for lunch, I have my car." He then noticed the expression of worry that had now replaced the smile on Sam's face. Dean was sure he could also make out a hint of embarrassment. He'd picked up on it from the moment he first laid eyes on the kid back in homeroom. The way the kid looked too skinny and pale. The fact that he looked like it had been a while since he'd last eaten. Dean hated to make presumptions, but the first guess that came to mind was that the kid could have some kind of eating disorder. Would probably explain his 'clumsiness'. Maybe he more passed out down the stairs rather than fell.

"I would, but I uhh..." Sam stumbled for words. "I don't have any money on me."

"I'll pay, my treat."

Sam's eyes widened slightly. "No, I mean, I couldn't."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Well, it's your money."

"Exactly. And with my money, we're gonna' get some crappy food." He smiled.

"Why would you do that?" Sam asked, his tone reflective of the fact that he must of accepted that he wasn't going to win his argument. It was almost heartbreaking for Dean to hear just how confused Sam was by him offering to buy him something as inexpensive as some crappy food from a diner. It was almost as if Sam felt that he didn't deserve it.

Dean shrugged. "Guess you caught me on a generous day." He smirked.

Sam smiled, and honestly it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He got up and briefly brushed himself off to remove the grass that had become stuck on his clothes from lying down before motioning with his head towards the parking lot.

Sam got up too and followed him.

Reaching the parking lot, Dean pulled out his keys.

"Which one's yours?" Sam asked.

"This one's my baby." Dean stated, walking over to the Impala and unlocking her.

"This..." Sam began, standing a few steps back to admire the car in front of him. "This is your car?"

Dean nodded with pride. "Come on, I'm starving." He opened the door and climbed into the drivers seat.

"Me too." Sam spoke silently under his breath before also getting into the car.


	2. Chapter 2

Noticing a card lying on top of the dashboard, Sam began to read the details. The card was Dean's drivers license.

'**Dean Winchester | DOB: 01/24/1979**'

"This card says you're 21." Sam spoke up.

Dean turned and looked at the card Sam was holding. "Yeah, drivers licenses tend to have your age on them."

"I know that, but if you're 21, why are you still here?"

"I missed a lot of school and I've been to a lot schools. They pretty much told me that if I wanted to stand any chance of getting my GED that I would have to be placed in a lower grade so that they could be certain that I'd learnt everything that I could have missed out on from moving around so much."

"That's crap."

"Yeah, but I suppose it means I get my GED." Dean stated as he pulled into the parking lot of the diner. Pushing open the door, he smiled at Sam before getting out.

Sam did the same, following Dean into the diner.

The diner was bustling with people. Some lined the bar while others sat in the peeling orange leather booths.

Dean found a booth towards the back of the diner and sat down, grabbing two menus from the holder at the end of the table before handing one of them to Sam.

Sam took the menu. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Sam nervously perused the long list of items available from the brightly coloured menu taking in the price of each. Although he would never admit it to Dean, this was his first ever time dining out. His father was anything but rich and Sam really didn't care about the whole concept when you could get perfectly good food from a store for much less.

"Sam..." Dean pulled him from his thoughts.

"What?" Sam immediately answered. "Sorry..." He apologised.

"You don't have to apologise, you just seemed to be away in your own little world there." He smirked.

Sam smirked too.

Dean, noticing Sam's nervousness, spoke up. "You can get what you want you know, you're not gonna' bankrupt me." He smiled reassuringly.

"Dean..." Sam went begin but was cut off.

"Sam, it's fine. Just pick something."

Sam sighed. "Okay." He glanced over the menu and found the soup. He liked soup and it was also much cheaper than other items on the menu. Perfect.

The waitress walked over. "What can I get you boys?"

Dean went first. "I'll have the double cheeseburger and fries, please." He offered a grin to the waitress who blushed before then turning to Sam.

"And you, sweetie?"

"The chicken soup...please..." Sam stuttered before finding his feet as he ordered.

Dean, knowing exactly the reason why Sam had ordered the soup turned back to the waitress. "Can we have another bowl of fries and a bowl of onion rings too for the table please?"

"Of course, sugar. Coming right up." She walked off.

"Thanks."

"Dean, you didn't have to..." Sam spoke up but was once again cut.

"I couldn't just let you get soup." He smiled. "And anyway, I want some onion rings." A cheeky grin followed.

Sam smirked.

* * *

After the meal, Dean had drove Sam home. Sam couldn't have thanked him enough for doing so, combining his thanks with 'sorry for adding an extra ten minutes to your journey'.

'You really don't have to apologise, Sam, I don't mind' Dean had replied.

'Thanks.' Sam had smiled before offering a wave as he made his way down the driveway and into the house. As soon as the door closed, Sam leant back against it and took a deep breath.

"Sam?" His father's voice called out. "Sam, that you?" Footsteps could be heard before John walked out in the hallway. He ruffled a hand through his greying blonde hair as he smiled at Sam before worry appeared in his expression. "Oh my god!" He rushed over, gently placing a hand to Sam's cheek, another to his chin before lifting it slightly to take a better look at his son's black eye and split lip.

"Dad, it's fine..." Sam tried to reassure, but it was useless.

"Who did this?!" Dad demanded. "I want to know who this is!" He paused. "Is it those kids at school again?"

"No, Dad..." Sam began. "I'm fine, honestly. I just tripped and fell, that's all."

"And gave yourself a black eye?" John furrowed an eyebrow.

Sam nodded. "You don't have to worry, Dad...I'm fine." Gently taking one of his father's hand, he gently lowered it before smiling softly at him. "Did you remember to take your meds?"

"Yes." He nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure...I...I took them when I came back." John stated.

"And when was that?" This was why Sam hated breaking routine, it always made things harder. He'd hoped that Dean would have just backed down from the idea of them going to the diner after he stated that he didn't have any money, which wasn't a lie, but he hadn't and Sam didn't have any other excuses he could find up his sleeve. Sighing inwardly, Sam noticed the look of confusion in his father's expression as he argued with his own thinking. "Dad, Dad...it's okay..." He offered a small smile.

"No it's not okay, I did take them and I don't need you accusing me otherwise!" The volume of his voice rose.

"I believe you." Sam answered.

John sighed too, visibly calming. "Sorry...I...I didn't mean to shout at you, sport." He offered a wobbly smile.

"No, Dad, you don't have to apologise, honestly." Sam quickly stated.

"I do." He nodded before walking off upstairs.

Sam walked into the kitchen and over to the counter. His father's med pots were sat out on the chipped wood where he had left them that morning. Picking up the week boxes he checked the days. Box one, 'Monday' gone. Box two, 'Monday' gone. Box three, 'Monday' gone.

_Good._

There was always the worry that his Dad had flushed the tablets when he didn't stick to his routine too. His routine meant that he could monitor his father taking his meds and so would be safe in knowing that they would be doing their job, but there was always the possibility that he would hide them or throw them away. Sam refused to deal with that shit again. He'd sworn to himself back then that he would never go through the torment of having to force feed his father his meds ever again.

Along with the meds on the counter there was a pile of letters. Glancing over the envelopes Sam immediately identified three of them to be bills without needing to rip them open. One of them clearly contained benefit checks. The checks paid for the bills and left Sam with enough to do a shop at the local store. He had to make sure that they would have enough left to last them until the next checks came but wasn't always successful. Sam had learnt that he could survive the remaining days before the check without food as long as he kept drinking water. Although it didn't eliminate his hunger, it made sure that he lasted until the mail came.

Walking over to the stove, Sam grabbed a pan before pressing down the dial.

Nothing happened.

"Shit!" Sam cursed, angrily.

The gas bill was clearly amongst the letters.

"So...no gas..." He narrated to himself before putting the pan down on the bench and grabbing a pot. Opening the last two cans of tomato soup from the cupboard, Sam poured out the contents into the pot before placing it in the oven, gradually stirring it when required.

After being warmed up, Sam took the pot of soup and emptied it into two bowls before placing the pot into the sink and filling it with water. Placing two spoons into the bowls he left one on the kitchen table.

"Dad! Food's ready!" He shouted before walking down the hallway to the room at the back of the house. Turning the handle, Sam pushed open the door and walked inside.

"Mom..." Sam spoke softly as he slowly made his way across the room to not startle her. "Mom..." Sitting down on the edge, Sam placed the bowl down on the side table before reaching out a hand and gently stroking a strand of hair from her eyes, being careful to mind the tubes supplying her with oxygen.

Stirring, her eyes flickered before they eventually found Sam's.

"Sammy..." Her weak tone acknowledged before a smile appeared.

"Hey, Mom..." Sam's replied. "I brought you some soup."

"Sam...I could've done that, you didn't..." She began.

"Hey..." He interrupted, softly. "All you need to do is focus on getting your strength back, okay?" Sam offered a smile.

She smiled back too, tears visible in the corner of her eyes. "My little boy..." She sniffled. "I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that." Sam stated, strength coming to his tone. "Of course you do...you deserve better than me."

"What could be better than my little angel?"

Sam reached over and picked up the bowl of soup. Lowering it into her hands, he watched as she took the spoon and attempted to lift it to her mouth with shaking hands.

This was what Gwen hated about her illness. The lack of independence. Seeing her little boy forced to grow up too young through having to care for her and step into roles that she had previously held. Seeing her little boy hurting and being able to do nothing about it because she was the reason behind his sadness. Her diagnosis all those years ago changed everything and then things just never got better.

She felt a hand gently clutch her own before the spoon was raised to her lips and she was able to eat the contents of the spoon. Placing the spoon back into the bowl, she sighed before looking up at Sam. She too took in the state of her son's face.

"Oh, Sammy, sweetie..." She began. "What happened?"

"It's nothing, don't worry." Sam shook his head.

"It's not nothing..." She stated before pausing and taking a breath. "Was it your Dad?"

His silence said it all.

"He didn't mean it." Sam cut in quickly. "He was having a bad day and I just got caught up in it all. He didn't mean it."

"Sam..."

"Some days the meds work, some days they don't. They didn't work and so he was confused and didn't recognise me. He thought I'd broken in and so obviously defended himself. I managed to calm him down and get him to bed." Sam explained.

"Sam, you shouldn't be doing all of this by yourself, it's not fair on you."

"It's not about what's fair, Mom, and you're my parents, I'd do anything for you." He answered. "I don't do this because I have to, I do this because I want to."

"There are people who could help you out."

"We can't afford it and I'm perfectly fine, I don't need any help."

"You deserve a life, Sam, not to be stuck here with us. The only time you have to yourself is when you're at school and that's it. You deserve more." A tear trickled down her cheek.

"Mom..." Sam began softly. "This, this is where I belong, looking after you and Dad." He paused. "And I will look after you guys until you guys don't need me anymore. Because you're gonna' beat this." He stated. "You're gonna' beat this, and Dad will beat his schizophrenia."

She smiled tearfully and nodded.

Sam smiled too before leaning down and hugging her.

Gwen weakly hugged back before pressing a kiss to the top of the her son's head. When Sam pulled away, she took hold of his hand. "Thank you for the soup, sweetie. Have you made yourself something?"

"I've already ate."

"Enough?"

"Too much." He smirked. "My friend took me to a diner."

"Oh..." Gwen's face lit up. "Male friend?"

"Mom..." Sam tried to conceal another smirk as he replied exaggeratedly.

"I'm your mother, I'm supposed to presume things and ask questions, that's my job."

"Yes he's a male friend." Sam answered.

"What's his name?"

"Dean."

"Do you like him?" She followed up.

"Mom, I've only been talking to him for like 4 hours..." Sam answered.

"Well I don't know that." She smirked before pausing. "Does he know?"

"Does he know what?"

"About all this?"

"No." Sam answered.

"Are you gonna' tell him?" Gwen asked.

"It's not something he needs to know." Sam stated. "It's not something _anyone_ needs to know, and that's not because I'm ashamed or because I'm embarrassed, it's because..."

"Sam..." She gently interrupted. "It's okay..." Gwen paused. "Even if you were ashamed or embarrassed, I wouldn't mind, sweetie. But you'd come to me if you needed someone to talk to though, right?"

Sam nodded. "Of course."

"Good." She smiled. "Go get some rest, you must be tired, sweetie."

"Okay, night Mom." He leant down and gave her light hug before kissing her on the cheek.

"Night, Sammy. Sweet dreams."

"You too." He smiled one last time before closing the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Violent behaviour is not a side effect of Schizophrenia and you know it." Sam stated. "Hallucinations, changes in behaviour, muddled thoughts, and delusions, they're side effects of being schizophrenic."

"I know the side effects!" Mary shouted before calming her voice to its usual level. "I'm sorry...it's just...I just want you to be safe, Sam."

"I am safe, and I've never not felt safe here. Mom, you're making this out like Dad does this on a daily basis. It happens maybe once or twice a month and that's it. He just has bad days or nights when he gets confused and I have to try and calm him down. Again, I don't mind doing that. I don't mind being roughed up a bit because I know he doesn't mean it." He paused. "You hurt Dad everytime you bring it up because the guilt just makes him worse, so please...please just leave it."

Mary took a deep breath. "Fine, but if it gets worse than we're going to have to re-evaluate."

"Fine." Sam agreed, even if there was a strong hint of reluctance in his tone.

"Go on, you're gonna' be late for school."

Sam nodded. "I'll see you later then." He left the room.

"Need a lift?" His father's voice spoke up as he walked down the corridor.

"If you're offering." Sam offered a smile.

The sound of a car horn could be heard outside.

Sam furrowed an eyebrow and walked to the window.

There, parked up by the curb, was Dean in his Impala.

"Looks like you've already got one." John smiled before patting him on the shoulder. "Be good." He winked.

"Dad, we're not...he's not my..." Sam began but just sighed as he heard his father laughing as he walked off. "Everyone's a comedian." He muttered with a smirk before grabbing his backpack and opening the door.

"Hurry up!" Dean shouted to him as he began to make his way down the driveway to the curb. When he reached the Impala, Dean smiled. "Taxi for a Sam."

"Saddo."

"Fine, walk Bitch." He smirked as he drove off a few feet.

Sam laughed as he walked over to the window.

"Apologise to Baby." Dean stated.

"Who?"

"Baby."

"Baby is...your car?" He guessed.

"Yeah

"Sorry, Dean's car." Sam apologised.

"Now that wasn't too hard, was it?" Dean smirked.

Sam opened the door and climbed in, shaking his head with a smirk as he did. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a bit strange?"

"It's been said." Dean pulled off.

"Thanks for the food yesterday." Sam spoke up halfway through their journey to school.

"You're welcome." Dean responded. "And before you go any further with that, no you do not have to pay me back, it was my treat as I told you yesterday."

"Dean..." Sam once again attempted.

"No.

"I'm not a charity case..." Sam muttered under his breath, embarrassment strong in his tone.

Dean sighed. Deciding quickly that it was in Sam's best interest if he pretended to not have heard his mutter, Dean glanced at his friend in the passenger seat. Really glanced. And took in once again all of the elements that he had identified yesterday when they had met in form room. The clothes were not much better than yesterdays in terms of condition and the number of marks and stains that littered the material. He was once again wearing the scrappy hoodie that Dean knew wouldn't be offering him much protection from the elements and his trainers had clearly seen better days. Sam had dropped his backpack down in the footwell and was lightly holding one of the straps up the hand of his good, non-injured, arm. His other arm was resting down on his lap, a position that would do nothing but agitate the injury more, but Dean knew that this was only to convince those without his eagle eyes that he wasn't infact injured in the first place.

This was worrying to Dean.

Why was the kid hiding his injuries, and why was he so good at it?

"Sam..." Dean spoke up.

"Yeah?" Sam turned to look at him.

"You'd tell me if someone was bothering you, wouldn't you?"

Dean immediately noticed the shock in Sam's expression before he quickly hid it behind a more neutral expression.

"What brought that on?" Sam answered.

"Nothing, I just want you to know that I have your back."

"Why?" He replied.

"Why? What do you mean why?" Dean asked, furrowing an eyebrow.

"Why do you have my back? Why would you want to? I've known you a day, Dean."

"So what, a guy can't be protective of his friend? And what do you mean 'why would I want to'? Why do you think I would want to. Why are you finding it so hard to accept that you're my friend?" Dean asked.

"Because I don't have any and I don't want to get my hopes up just for you to leave." Sam answered.

"Is that what this is about? You're scared that I'm just gonna' talk to you for a few days and then leave?"

"Well you said that you've been to a lot of schools. You could always transfer out again."

Dean sighed. "Sam, I'm not gonna' leave you. You really don't have to worry about that."

Sam scoffed.

"What?"

"Everybody leaves."

They both sat in silence caused by Sam's last statement for a few seconds before Dean eventually spoke up once again. "Do you wanna' talk about it?"

"No."


	4. Chapter 4

As the bell for lunch rang, Dean had made his way down the hallway to Sam's locker. Sam was in the process of stuffing a pile of text books into it.

"They look fun." Dean commentated as he glanced at the titles. "Yikes, those all for one subject?"

"Yep." Sam nodded, giving the books one last shove before slamming the door closed and locking it. "I regret taking calculus."

"Calculus? Jees, you know how to have fun."

"Hilarious."

"Whatever. Come on, I'm starving."

* * *

Despite the argument that had taken place, Dean had managed to talk Sam into letting him pay for his lunch.

Dumping his tray down on the table, Dean handed Sam his sandwich and apple as he sat down across from him.

"This is gonna' be a regular thing isn't it?" Sam asked.

"Yep." Dean nodded. "And anyway, it was only a sandwich and an apple."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Sam took a bite out of the apple.

Trying to think of conversation, Dean delved into his pocket and pulled out a flyer.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

Unfolding it, Dean slid it across the table to him.

"Crows Football Team Try Outs?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Why not?" Dean smiled playfully.

"You do know I was joking about the whole quarterback thing right?"

"Who said I wanted to be quarterback?"

"Right, so you're saying that _you_ aren't going to be picked as quarterback? _You_?" Sam paused. "You do realise the cheerleaders pick too."

"Hey, I can't help these fine looks." Dean raised his eyebrows twice.

Sam smiled.

"So will you be at try outs? You know, to cheer me on?"

"Dude, I'm not your cheerleader." Sam smirked.

"Of course you are. You just need a little red skirt, some pom poms. Yeah, yeah, go Crows!" Dean teased.

"Shut up!" Sam laughed, hitting Dean on the arm.

"You better be there."

"I'll think about it. I've got an assignment due in two days and Rayner will have my ass if I don't meet her deadline."

"Have some fun, miss some deadlines, live a little. Maybe, watch some football try outs." Dean grinned.

"You're relentless." Sam scoffed.

"It's my best feature."

"Debatable." Sam answered before realising what he'd just said. "Emm...on that note, I'm gonna' go, Rayner's doing extra revision classes and I ugh...yep...bye..." He scooped up his backpack, dumping the sandwich box into it before walking off.

Dean shook his head with a smirk.

* * *

"Winchester." The coach shouted.

"Here, Sir." Dean replied.

"Good to see a kid with manners, but you can call me Coach." He nodded. "How old are you, Winchester?"

"21."

"Little old don't you think?"

"No, Coach. If anything it means I'm more experienced." Dean answered.

"Well you're certainly more confident." Coach turned to look at the rest of the try out line up. "I mean look at you guys, you look like you're about to run cryin' to your mommas not play football. Pull yourselves together."

Dean smirked.

"Move out!" He shouted.

The students ran off to get into position.

Dean began to follow them but was halted as Coach placed his arm out.

"Being cocky is one thing, Winchester, being good at this game is another." He stated.

"Yes, Coach." Dean nodded.

"Prove to me that you're as good as you seem to think you are and you might just get the star spot."

"I see you have every faith in me then." Dean smirked.

"I've been around a few years to know a good player when I see one. Just don't blow it with that attitude of yours, it's gonna' get you nowhere." Moving his arm away, Coach blew the whistle.

* * *

Halfway through try outs, Dean glanced at the bleachers for the bajillionth time hoping to spot Sam.

"Oof!" Dean groaned as he was harshly tackled to the ground by another player out of nowhere.

"Oh come on!" He heard Coach complaining before a pair of trainers came into view as he tried to get his breath back from being winded, still lying on the field. "Get up, Winchester."

Dean pulled himself to his feet, dusting himself off slightly.

"You got the hots for one of the cheerleaders or somethin'?"

"Or somethin'." Dean answered.

"Focus, kid." Coach stated.

"Sorry, Coach." Dean sighed before turning to walk back to his position.

"Dean!" He heard a shout.

Furrowing an eyebrow Dean turned to see Sam sat next to the bleachers on the grass with a worried expression. His face lit up instantly. "Hey, Coach?" Dean shouted.

"What, Winchester?"

"Break?"

Coach took a deep breath. "Fine, five minutes, but leave your little romance off the field this time, huh?"

Rolling his eyes, Dean ignored him before jogging over to Sam.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, still clearly concerned about the hit he'd took.

"I'm fine. Forget about that." He motioned to Sam. "You actually came." Dean stated. "And you're wearing glasses?"

"What?" Sam furrowed an eyebrow before realising that he still had them on. "Oh. Yeah they're, I need them for reading."

Dean glanced around at the scattering of text books and notepads laid out around Sam on the grass before looking back up at him. "My god this looks boring."

"It's okay if you understand it."

"Do you?"

"Sorta'." Sam smirked. "But anything seems easier to understand than that." He motioned to the field.

"What, football?"

Sam nodded.

"Nah, it's easy. I'll have to teach you." Dean smiled. "I mean, if you're gonna' be my cheerleader than you can't be cramping my style by not knowing the rules."

"It would take forever to learn all that."

"Sam you do calculus."

"Yeah, your point?"

"That's like friggin' Einstein level stuff compared to this crap." Dean stated. "I will teach you and trust me, you'll get it in like a week. You're too smart not to."

"Would it make you happy if I agreed with you?" Sam smirked.

"Yep." Dean grinned.

"Fine, you can teach me." Sam smiled.

"Great, the Cowboys are playing the Redskins tonight. How about you come to mine and watch the game?"

"Dean I..."

"You can't say no now, you've just agreed to let me teach you. Don't back out on me, bitch." He smirked.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Ugh, fine."

Dean grinned once again. "Great, then that's settled then."

"Winchester!" Coach shouted. "Stop flirting and get over here!"

"Gotta' go." Dean stated. "Don't forget to cheer for me."

"Jerk!" Sam shouted after him.

Dean smirked.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry about these last two chapters being so short. I've just found it to be better for the storyline to end in specific places and so have elected to split up chapters that may previously have been longer. Plus, why rush? You guys are here for the long run hopefully so let's take our time. There are plenty more goodies in store for you in the coming chapters. I love seeing all your reviews so thanks for that and keep them coming, it's always great to hear what you guys think about the story and don't be shy to give me suggestions and requests for what you would like to see happen next.


	5. Chapter 5

"I can't believe you've never seen an American Football game before."

"Never really had the interest." Sam answered, following Dean through the living room until they came to the couch.

The coffee table was adorned with various bowls filed with snacks, chips, and dips which Sam presumed were for eating while watching the game. The TV itself was large and flatscreen. Sam made a note to himself to be careful around it as he didn't want to begin to think how much it must have cost. The house itself was quiet and homely. No one other than him and Dean seemed to be around and Sam for some reason found comfort in this.

"You can sit down you know." Dean said with a smile as he took Sam's wrist and gently pulled him down onto the couch.

"Sorry."

"Honestly, just make yourself at home. What's mine is yours."

As Dean grabbed the remote and began finding the channel for the game, Sam's eyes were enticed by the spread of food out. He hoped that Dean would grab something from one of the bowls so he wouldn't be the first to eat. He also hoped it would do it soon before his stomach began to growl. There would be nothing more embarrassing. It wouldn't be the first time that his stomach had growled around Dean, normally when they were in the midst of an argument over Dean paying, and so Sam was desperate for it not to happen again. Mentally cursing himself for being so rude and greedy, Sam sat back on the couch and turned his attention to the screen.

Dean was in the process of explaining the ins and outs of the games rules when the inevitable happened and Sam's stomach gave a small grumble.

Sam's cheeks reddened in embarrassment as he lowered his gaze from Dean's while wrapping an arm gently around his stomach as if the action would silence in somehow.

"Your stomach got bored of hearing me talk about football." Dean smirked before lifting one of the bowls of chips from the table and holding it out to Sam. With his other hand he took one of the tortilla chips and dunked it in the salsa dip before throwing it in his mouth.

Sam smirked too, more due to the sheer amount of salsa Dean had scooped onto the chip, and took a couple in his hand before slowly beginning to eat them one by one, savouring the lightly salted snacks.

"So you understanding any of it?"

Sam nodded. "I think I've got the basics."

"Good." Dean smiled. "The rest you'll just pick up from watching it."

"Is that a hint for me to come and watch you play?"

"Maybe." He grinned.

"Well, you have to make the team first." Sam quipped.

Dean gasped, pretending to be offended. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Sam's eyes widened as soon as the word left his mouth. "Sorry...I..."

"Hey, it's okay..." Dean expression softened instantly as he noticed the worry in Sam's. "I don't mind, honestly."

Sam noticed the sincerity in Dean's eyes as he offered reassurance.

"As long as I can call you jerk, I don't care." He smirked.

Sam nodded.

"TOUCHDOWN, COWBOYS!" The narrator screamed as the crowd erupted.

Dean turned to the screen with a smile. "Woo!"

"So you're a Cowboy?" Sam asked.

"And proud." He winked.

"Well you're in Chiefs country here." Sam stated.

"You actually know a team name, I'm amazed." Dean joked.

"You say that like it's possible to live in Kansas your entire life and not know the name of your state's team."

"True." Dean ate another heaped chip full of salsa.

"So the Redskins..."

"They're the sworn enemy of the Cowboys." Dean explained before turning to Sam. "So what's your team?"

"I suppose I could be a Cowboy." Sam answered with a shy smile.

Dean offered a larger one back. "Good choice. A noble choice."

"So are we any good?" Sam asked.

"No, we're terrible. Like _really_ terrible but you sorta' just ignore that." He smirked. "Dorsett was the best and then he retired."

"Is that your favourite player?"

Dean nodded.

"The clock is counting down to what will be a Dallas victory. And there we have it, 27 Cowboys 21 Redskins."

"Woo!" Dean celebrated.

Sam smiled at the stupid victory dance that Dean was doing with his arms before he noticed the time. "Oh god..." He muttered under his breath before rushing up from the coach.

"Sam?" Dean's expression became concerned in seconds as he watched Sam rush towards the door.

"Thanks for everything, I just have to go." Sam briefly explained before opening the door and closing it quickly behind him. Taking off in a sprint, Sam ran down the endless grey sidewalks through the maze of houses. The run took Sam a good twenty minutes before he eventually arrived home, his breathing now heavy in exhaustion and his feet sore from running the distance in his old, holey sneakers. Practically dragging himself down the driveway and up to the front door, Sam used his key to let himself in before leaning against the wood as he slid it shut, staying in this position for a few seconds as he tried to at least get some of his breath back.

After eventually managing to gain enough effort to push himself away from the door, Sam walked into the kitchen and over to the counter. Picking up the pill boxes, he sighed as he noticed that days to still be in the tray.

"Dad?" He shouted, walking into the corridor and peering in the living room.

Empty.

A painful jog upstairs gave the same result and so Sam walked into the spare bedroom at the back of the house.

"Mom?" Sam spoke up in a quiet voice as he slowly opened the door.

Mary stirred before pushing herself up so that she was sat upright with her legs over the edge of the bed. "Sam, you're late home."

"I know, I'm sorry."

She smiled softly. "You don't have to apologise, Sam." Mary paused. "Did you have fun?"

Sam nodded with a smile before remembering what he had come in the room to ask. "Do you know where Dad is?"

"He was here earlier but I went to sleep about an hour ago so I don't know what happened to him after I lay down." She explained.

"Okay." Sam nodded. "I'll try and find him. What do you want to eat?"

"I can make it myself." Mary answered.

"Mom, I don't mind and you need to..."

"Sam, I love you, but if the next word out of your mouth is rest then we're gonna' fall out..." She smirked. "Come here."

Sam walked closer to the bed and ducked down so that they were at eye level.

Mary smiled at her little boy as she placed a hand on his cheek. "Go and find your Dad and then give yourself some rest for a change, okay? The last thing we want is you wearing yourself out because of silly old us."

Sam nodded.

"Were you with the boy? Emmm...Dean. That's it, Dean. Where you with Dean?"

The smile that came to her little boys face was the most beautiful sight Mary had seen in a very long time.

"Yeah, I was with Dean. He was teaching me the rules of football, that's why I was late, I didn't realise games were that long." Sam explained.

"Dean sounds nice."

"Yeah, he is." Sam paused. "Do you want help into the kitchen?"

She sighed. "Yes please, sweetie."

Sam wrapped an arm around her before helping her slowly to her feet. They slowly walked out the room and down the corridor before arriving at the kitchen. Sam then gently helped her down into one of the wooden chairs.

Mary hated how reliant she had become on her little boy and it broke her heart to know just how much Sam had to do on a daily basis without even being asked. He never complained, or rebelled, or asked for anything for himself because he knew that money was tight and that they couldn't afford much outside of necessity. Sam had his self assigned duties and he did them everyday without fail. Mary hoped that the arrival of this Dean character would be good for him. Get him out of the house for a while so that he could have some 'Sam Time' without having to worrying about caring for her and John, and that offered Mary comfort.

The mysterious Dean had came on the scene and the change in her little boy was already apparent.

She liked this Dean.

And she knew Sam did too.


	6. Chapter 6

"Sam?" Dean furrowed an eyebrow as he walked closer to the tall, shaggy haired kid.

Sam turned at the call of his name.

"What are you doing out here? It's freezing..."

"Long story." He answered.

"What's wrong?" Dean's voice was filled with concern.

Sam sighed, wishing he could just tell him everything...but he couldn't. "Long story."

Dean got the hint. "Sam, you're gonna' freeze to death out here. You want a ride home?"

Sam shook his head. "It's okay, I gotta' do something first. I'll be fine, don't worry about me."

"Well maybe I could help? It could speed things up a bit."

"I'm sorry, but you can't." Sam explained.

Dean, slightly dejected, tried to work out just what was bothering Sam.

"If you value our friendship then leave me to do this..." Sam knew how stupid that sounded. Despite internally cringing at his last outburst, Sam stuck with it and stood strong, finding Dean's gaze. "I have to do this by myself."

Dean took a deep breath before nodding. "Fine, but give me your phone."

Something inside Sam triggered at those words. Something deep inside him that set doubt in his mind. Something that made him think, 'after all of this, he's just like all the other kids at school'.

"You're gonna' steal my phone?" Sam hated the pathetic nature to his voice.

"Do you really think that low of me?..." Dean furrowed an eyebrow before taking the phone that Sam nervously handed to him. He quickly set about entering his number to the device and assigning it to speed dial. "Here." He handed it back. "Just in case, yeah?"

Sam nodded, putting the phone away into the pocket of his jeans. "Yeah, thanks." He offered a smile.

"Get home safe." Dean offered a smile before walking off back to the Impala and driving away.

Sam took a breath before continuing his search.

Any last hints of light in the sky had been overcome now by the inky black encompassing darkness. As he walked down the street, he found his hand hovering closer and closer to his pocket as the night set in before he was eventually holding on the small flip phone with a death grip. The device acting as a kind of safety blanket to him in the fact that he knew Dean was only one push of a button away. And Dean would always come and save him.

Well...

He hoped.

* * *

Dean was worried.

Instead of driving home, he had parked up by one of the old stores and waited.

Waited in case Sam needed him.

Half an hour went by and still no call from Sam. Either he'd already gone home, or, and Dean really hoped it wasn't the latter, he was still out there.

The temperature on the dash had fallen into the minuses now.

When Dean had left Sam earlier, the kid had only been wearing that thin, tatty hoodie.

Reaching across to the glove box, Dean pulled out his beanie before closing it up again and climbing out of the car. Shoving the beanie into the pocket of his leather jacket, he then locked her before walking down the street towards the spot in which he had came across Sam earlier.

There was no one around.

The sound of dogs barking echoed through the darkness and the icy wind blew down the street like a wind tunnel.

Dean could see his breath as he wrapped his arms around himself as he continued to walk around the town in his search for Sam.

It was a few minutes later as he was making his way through the park that he eventually caught sight of him.

Sat on one of the benches, Sam was sat with his head bowed and Dean was sure that there were tears in his eyes.

Sitting down on the bench, Dean didn't say a word. Pulling the beanie out of his jacket pocket, he held it out to Sam.

Sniffling, Sam looked at the offered beanie before a small smile appeared on his face. With shaking hands from the bitter temperature, Sam took the hat and was quick to pull it on.

Dean had stayed around for him. Stayed to make sure that he was okay. Stayed true to his promise of looking out for him. He'd even brought him a beanie, knowing he would be cold.

Rubbed his hands together as they rested in his lap, Dean attempted to generate some warmth in them. And then a light weight slowly and gently began to rest against his shoulder. Smiling softly, Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders, pulling him closer to his side.

The two boys remained sat in silence, both looking out at the city around them.

"Thank you." Sam spoke up in a quiet tone.

"For what?" Dean asked, looking down at the shaggy haired kid that he'd become so protective.

"Caring..."

Dean took a deep breath before replying. "Please don't thank me for that..."

"Why?" Sam furrowed an eyebrow, looking up slightly at Dean.

"Because I haven't done anything amazing for you, Sam. It's just a hat."

"It's more than just a hat, Dean...it's..." Sam cut himself off. "Nevermind..."

Noticing the fact that he could actually see their breath as they spoke now, Dean sighed. "We should probably head home before we freeze our asses off out here. Come on, I'll give you a ride."

Sam sat upright from resting against Dean's shoulder and nodded, standing up. "Yeah, thanks."

"No problem."

Dean offered a smile before walking off towards the Impala.

"Dean..." Sam spoke up once again.

Dean turned to look at Sam. "Yeah?"

"Seriously...thanks for everything...I really do appreciate." He explained too nervously for Dean's liking.

Dean once again offered a smile, hoping to offer some form of reassurance to him, before unlocking the Impala and climbing in.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Because I really hated how that last chapter ended up coming out, I thought I'd treat you guys to another.

* * *

Pulling up next to the sidewalk of Sam's street, Dean turned in his seat to look at his shaggy haired friend. He took a deep breath before speaking up.

"Sam...I get that whatever you were out there for is your own business, I do...but honestly man, this ain't exactly a great neighborhood. Plus you're gonna' get sick or somethin' if you don't wrap up more." Dean didn't care how motherly he sounded, the kid seemed like he needed someone in his life to tell him these things. There was a huge question mark over Sam's parents. He'd caught a glimpse of Sam's Dad briefly when picking him up one morning, but other than that, what the hell was he doing. Dean knew that it wasn't really his business to judge without all the facts, but right now, there was some definite questionable parenting and Dean was not okay with that. So yeah, he was gonna' find the kid a new coat, some gloves, let him keep the beanie. He was also gonna' keep feeding the bean pole until he had more skin on those far too prominent bones. He was gonna' remind him to be safe, wrap up warm, wash behind his ears, and all that other parenty crap that Sam was obviously not getting at home. He would be whatever Sam needed, and whether that was a friend, a boyfriend, a parent, or all of the above, Dean didn't care. He would be there for Sam in whatever quantity he needed him to be.

Sam nodded before pulling the beanie off. He held it out for Dean.

"Keep it."

"Oh..." Sam reeled the beanie back to himself. "Sorry, I'll wash it first. Sorry..."

"No." Dean answered softly, turning on the bench so that he was facing Sam. He put his hands over Sam's, which were currently gripping the beanie with an intensity that showed how much value he saw in such a simplistic item. "I want you to have it."

Sam's eyes widened in realisation. "What?! No...I can't...it's yours..." He tried to hand it over once again but Dean's hands stopped him, offering a reassuring squeeze.

"I never really wore that one anyway, and you suit it." Dean smiled.

Sam looked down at the beanie before his gaze once again found Dean's, seeking one last confirmation. "Are you sure?"

Dean nodded.

A soft smile appeared on Sam's face. "Thank you."

"What have I told you about thanking me." Dean smirked but was cut off as Sam's lips pressed to his own. Leaning closer into him, they kissed for a few seconds longer before pulling away. "Wow..."

Sam's cheeks turned red in blush as he smiled once again, hiding behind his bangs as he lowered his head slightly.

Dean reached out and placed a hand on Sam's cheek.

"So that sorta' perfectly leads me onto my next question..." He began. "I was wondering if you would like to go out with me?"

Sam's eyes immediately found his. "Like your boyfriend?"

Dean smirked. "Yes, like my boyfriend."

A huge smile appeared on Sam's face as he nodded.

"Great." Dean smiled too. "Come on, I'll walk you up."

As they got out of the car, Sam's fingers intertwined with his as they made their way down the street to Sam's house.

"I had fun tonight." Sam spoke up.

"Well there's a ton of games coming up so if you're up for it, we could watch them together?"

"I'd love that." He nodded.

Dean smiled before glancing over at Sam's house. It was then that he noticed the door standing open slightly. "Sam?..."

Sam turned to look at whatever Dean was staring at, his eyes widening as he noticed the ajar door too. "Mom!" He shouted before releasing his grip from Dean's hand and sprinting down the driveway, shoving the door open and rushing inside. Through the hallway, Sam soon found himself standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "Mom!" He shouted once again as he entered.

Dean, who had sprinted after his boyfriend, reached the room just as a gasp escaped from Sam's lips.

"No..." Sam made the few steps across the floor to where his mother was lying, green eyes open and staring blankly up at the ceiling. Lifeless. "Mom..." A weak tone spoke up. "Mom..." Sam shook her softly. "No...No, please...please..." He begged.

"Sam..." Dean closed the distance between him and Sam slowly before he tentatively attempted to bring him away from her.

"No!" Sam bellowed at him, attempting to push him away. "I have to help her!"

"You can't..." Dean answered in an equally weak and emotional tone, ignoring the light hits that were striking his chest as Sam struggled to pull away. "I'm so sorry...but you can't..." He sniffled himself as he witnessed the sheer pain in his boyfriend's expression. "She's gone, Sam..."

"No..." Sam shook his head desperately before a sob escaped his lips and his knees gave way.

Dean eased him down, feeling Sam bury himself against his chest as he cried. Stroking a hand gently through his hair, Dean rested his chin on top of Sam's head before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I'm so sorry..." A tear trickled down his own cheek before he closed his eyes and held Sam ever closer.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face, taking a deep breath as he did, watching as Sam's mother's body was wheeled out of the house.

"Excuse me..." A voice spoke up.

Dean turned to look at the officer holding a notepad.

"Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?"

He nodded. "Sure."

"Thanks." The officer pulled out one of the seats at the dining room table and sat down, placing his notepad down along with a voice recorder. A red light appeared as he clicked the device on before waiting for Dean to sit down too before asking his first question. "First of all, what is your name and relation to the deceased?"

"Dean Winchester, and uhh none...I'm Sam's...I'm Sam's boyfriend."

Question after question went by. With each one, Dean began to realise just how little he actually knew about the engima he simple knew as Sam.

"Okay, that's everything. We'll need you two at the station later to answer some more questions and get some statements. Right now though..." The officer paused before a genuinely caring smile appeared on his face. "Look after him. He's been through a lot."

Dean nodded.

"We'll be in touch." The officer walked off down the hallway and closed the front door behind him.

Dean sighed before turning to glance at the living room. Walking through into it, he found Sam exactly where he had left him. Lying across the couch in a holey grey hoodie a few sizes too large for him, Sam's knees were up to his chest as his head rested against the arm. He was currently using the sleeve to wipe away the tears falling down his cheeks.

"Hey..." Dean began softly, sitting down in the gap between Sam's feet and the arm of the couch. He placed a hand on Sam's arm before squeezing it reassuringly.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes before a sniffle could be heard as Sam rubbed his nose with the cuff of his hoodie. "Why are you still here?" A weak voice spoke up.

"I'm not leaving you, Sam..." Dean answered.

"But why? Why are you so bothered? You don't have to be here. You could just leave. There's nothing making you stay if you don't want to."

"Who says I don't want to?"

Sam furrowed an eyebrow, watery eyes looking up slightly to find Dean's worried and protective gaze. "What?"

"Who says that I don't want to stay here with you?" Dean repeated. "You're my friend and..."

"Boyfriend." Sam corrected.

Dean smiled softly. "You're my boyfriend, and I'm not going anywhere." He paused. "I'm gonna' help you get through this, alright?"

Sam pushed himself upright on the couch before slumping down so that he was resting against Dean.

Dean guided Sam's head down that it rested in his lap before he began to gently stroke his hair. "When that officer was asking me questions back there, it made me realise that there is so much about you that I don't know."

"I never thought you'd be interested." Sam answered.

"What I'm trying to say is, Sam, is that I'm here if you need to talk. And I really don't care what it is we even talk about, I'll always be there to listen."

Sam didn't answer.

The two once again sat in silence for a few minutes before Sam once again spoke up.

"My Mom, she uhh...she had cancer. We always knew it was terminal but...you know...you can never really prepare yourself for what's eventually gonna' happen." Sam explained. "Before I went out, I helped her from her room into the kitchen. The treatments make her weak and so she needs..." Sam paused, the tense of his words proving difficult to correct. "...needed help getting around."

"How long have you known?"

"She got diagnosed about three years ago. She had chemo and everything for about 5 months and the went into remission. She never recovered fully from it though and then when she found another lump, she had to go back into hospital to get more treatment. That was about a year ago but she stopped having chemo around five or six months ago. Once they told her she had terminal cancer, she checked herself off and came back home. She didn't wanna' die in a hospital, and she knew that..." Sam lowered his head slightly, a tear trickling down his cheek as he did.

"Hey..." Dean cood softly, wrapping an arm around the bundle leant on him. "It's okay, you can tell me."

"My Dad, he's got schizophrenia, and he has good days and bad days. When my Mom found out that her cancer was back, he really took it hard. And then when we found out it was terminal, he basically stopped functioning. He lost his job, he started drinking, he stopped taking his meds." Sam took a deep breath before continuing. "When Dad's not on his meds it...it means that he's definitely gonna' have a bad day. His psychosis' get really bad and so he sees and hears things that aren't actually there. Like burglars and other stuff like that. And he also gets violent sometimes too."

Dean's eyes widened before everything clicked into place.

"Your injuries..." He said quietly.

"What?"

"Your bruises, and your sore arm. That was him, wasn't it?..."

"Dean..." Sam began.

"He did that to you?!" Dean cut him off, his tone rising in anger.

"It's not his fault..."

"How can you say that? How many times has he hurt you?"

"Dean it doesn't matter!" Sam stated.

"Of course it matters!" Dean responded. "You getting hurt, that matters. And yes, it may not be his fault that his condition makes him see shit that's not there, but that doesn't give him an excuse to hurt you." He took a breath to try and calm down, noticing the panic in Sam's expression. "I'm sorry..." Dean sighed. "I'm sorry...I just...I care about you."

Sam smiled before leaning up and kissing Dean softly on the cheek. "I know."

Dean smiled too.

"That's why my Mom liked you." Sam explained.

Dean furrowed an eyebrow.

"When I would...tell her about you." Sam's cheek turned blush slightly. "I think she liked that you were looking after me."

Dean ran a hand through Sam's bangs, sweeping hair away from his eyes. He smiled before pulling the kid closer to him.

"Oh and the officer that was here, he also said we'd have to go down to the station later to answer some questions."

Sam sat upright, his eyes wide in fear.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean asked in a worried tone.

"I can't go to the station. They'll take me away, Dean."

"No one's taken anyone away."

"They will!" Sam exclaimed. "They'll see the bruises and they'll take me away."

"Sam..." Dean stopped as he noticed Sam lost in thought about something. "What's wrong?"

Sam shot up from the couch and ran off out the room.

Dean sprinted after him. "Sam!" He could see how Sam didn't want to enter the kitchen but still forced himself to go inside. He then made his way over to one of the benches, picking something up from it before throwing it down and burying his face in his hands after cursing. "Sam?" He slowly walked over to him, taking a gentle hold of his arms. "You need to talk to me, what's going on?"

"My Dad..." Sam answered.

Dean looked at what Sam had thrown down.

Pill boxes.

Full pill boxes.

Remembering what Sam had said about if his Dad didn't take his medication, he sighed. "Sam, if he could be dangerous, or a danger to himself, we're gonna' have to report him missing."

"No..." Sam shook his head, tone weak in sadness.

"We have no choice, Sam. It's what's best for him." Dean paused. "You don't have to call them yourself, I can do it for you."

"You don't have to do that." Sam answered.

"I want to, okay? Like I said, you don't have to go through this alone." He paused once again, taking a breath. "Why don't you go and lie down, you've gotta' be tired."

Sam nodded. "Thanks, Dean."

"You don't have to thank me, Sam." Dean stated softly as he watched the kid slowly walk out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the living room.

Once he was out of sight, Dean scrubbed a hand down his face before picking up the phone.

"Hi, I need to report someone missing..."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** I'm back! So sorry about the incredibly long hiatus this story had. My writer's block is officially over so I will be updating this story more frequently now. If any of you guys are still around then thank you so much and I hope you enjoy the chapter.

* * *

"Oh, no no no..." Sam began, sternly. "You cannot expect me to just sit here!"

"Sam, the police will go out looking for your Dad." Dean answered.

"Great...that doesn't mean I can't go out too."

"It's black dark out there."

"Dean, I get that you're just trying to help me, but please stop." Sam stated bluntly before getting up from the sofa and grabbing his coat. Throwing it on over his hoodie, he walked towards the front door.

"Sam, you heard the police, they'll be back to take you down to the station any minute." Dean reminded.

"He's my Dad and he's missing!" Sam shouted. "What would you do if your Dad was missing?! Would you just lie there feeling sorry for yourself when he could be..." He paused, sucking in a breath. "I need to find him before he does something stupid."

"You do know what he might have done, right?" Dean asked, softly. "The police are thinking it too."

"Fuck you, Dean!" Sam growled, opening the door. "And go home." He slammed it behind him.

Dean sighed.

* * *

Walking through town, the wind was bitterly cold as Sam pulled his coat tight around himself. As he trudged towards the bar on the outskirts, Sam desperately hoped that his father would be there. If he wasn't, he was screwed.

Sam's phone began to buzz again in his pocket.

"Dean..." He groaned in an infuriated tone. "Stop calling me..." Sam couldn't help but feel guilty about the fact that his tears had long since dried up, anger having replaced any other emotion ten-fold. He'd cried continuously after they had found her, but after having to listen to the eight thousandth sympathy-less police radio message, and Dean's 'It's all gonna' be swell' attitude for the last few hours, he was very _very_ close to punching something.

Approaching the bar, Sam thoughts were on his father. He would take him in literally any mental state right now. He just wanted his Dad.

His phone buzzed once again leading to him once again ignoring it.

Pushing the door open, Sam quickly scoped the room. His father was nowhere in sight. Lip quivering, Sam desperately tried to hold it together and not break out in tears in front of the whole bar.

"Sam?" A voice called for him.

In a matter of seconds, quick footsteps could be heard approaching before he was led off through the staff door at the side of the bar and pulled into a tight hug just as he began to sob.

"Oh my goodness." Carol's soft voice gasped before she began to gently stroke his hair. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"I can't find my Dad. I really need my Dad." Sam explained, cheeks red in embarrassment from bursting out crying.

His phone buzzed away in his pocket.

"Hey, it's okay...It's okay, sweetie. We'll find him." Carol scooped a hand into the pocket of his coat and took out the phone. "I'm going to answer this, okay?"

Sam nodded.

"Hello?...Oh I'm Carol, I'm a friend of John's...He's with you?"

Sam eyes widened as he looked up at Carol.

Carol pulled the phone away from her face. "He's with your Grandma."

"Grandma Millie?" Sam asked.

Carol nodded.

Sam sprinted off.

"Sam, your phone!" Carol shouted after him, but Sam didn't care.

* * *

Running the whole way to his Grandma's, Sam made his way down the drive before hammering on the front door.

"Grandma Millie! It's Sam!" He shouted.

The door opened a few seconds.

"Oh, Samuel. It's been too long."

Sam's breath was heavy as he felt lightheaded from the sprint over. "Is he still here?"

She nodded.

Sam rushed past her into the living room where his father was sat in one of the plush armchairs, heading buried in his hands.

"Dad?" He spoke up softly.

His father's hands were shaking badly as he looked up. "Sammy." His tone was weak and grief-filled. "I know how this looks but I love your mother and I would never do a thing to hurt her. She is the love of my life."

"I know you didn't, Dad, you don't have to defend yourself to me." Sam answered, gently.

John smiled for a few seconds before it dropped away. "I'm sorry about being an ass lately. The drinking is going to stop, and I'll be more thorough with the meds." Taking in his son's appearance, he stood up from the armchair and closed the gap between them. Slowly raising his hand, he lightly traced a trembling finger across the bruise on Sam's cheek. "Was that me?"

"Dad..."

"Sam...please..." John interrupted. "I need to know. Was that me?"

Sam nodded.

John sighed before wordlessly wrapping his arms around his son and pulling him close. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he rested his head on top of Sam's. "You are the most amazing son any parents could have, and if we haven't said that enough to you then I am so sorry, Sam. There are no excuses for what I have done, and I will never use a single one of them, and I never want to hear you say any of them either. I have hurt you, and neglected my role as your father."

"Schizophrenia is hardly an excuse, Dad. They told when you when you were diagnosed that there were going to be good days and bad days."

"Yes, but they also told us when I was diagnosed that it doesn't cause violent behaviour, that's the alcohol." John stated. "I refuse to be useless any longer, even if that means changing meds. I will do anything, Sam, because you deserve better than this joke you have as a Dad."

"Please don't say that." Sam pulled away, his expression that of shock. "Don't you dare say that about yourself."

"It's the truth, Sam."

"It's not, and you're going to prove yourself wrong, remember? So start now." Sam stated. "Come home with me. The police need statements and I really don't want to have to go by myself." He paused. "I need you, Dad."

"They think I killed her." John stated painfully.

"Then prove them wrong." Sam answered. "You love Mom, and they would be fools not to see that."

John smiled softly. "Let's go."


End file.
